Forgive Me
by wahwah
Summary: In an attempt to get back in his father's good graces, Draco is sent on a mission to inflitrate the Order by pretending to have turned against the Death Eaters after he failed to kill Dumbledore. He falls too deepfor the plan, and for a girl. DHr
1. Chapter 1

Sorry guys! This is definitely a WORK IN PROGRESS! My first fanfic, so it may take some time. R+R please!

"_Forgive me father for I have sinned," whispered the pale boy to the dark. He winced as he rolled over to his side, the cold stone floor searing his exposed skin like fire. He didn't know how long he had been there. The room was always dark, with the only light coming from the wands of the men who came in—it was the only arrangement where he ever craved the empty blackness of the room. _

_He heard a door creak followed by a cold drawl just like his own. He looked up to see the silhouette of a man in billowing robes, his long blond hair glowing like a halo from the light in the hall, "Get up. It's time to prove you're still worth keeping," But before Draco could respond, his father had walked back out and shut the door. _

The disaster at Hogwarts when he hesitated to kill Dumbledore was a bigger mistake than Draco had thought. Although he succeeded in getting the Death Eaters inside the castle, his one weak moment was enough to cancel out whatever victories he made. His father refused to look at him when they sought refuge at the manor. In fact, he almost killed him, looking at him with the same disgusted expression he usually saved for Harry Potter. Narcissa had to hold him back, grabbing onto his arm and begging for her son's life, until he slapped her away. he spit on Draco and ordered him to be sent to the dungeons where he was tortured until that fateful day when his second chance to please the Dark Lord came.

The war had already begun while Draco was wasting away. Voldemort got angrier day after day, frustrated by the persistence of the Order. The entire wizarding world had split into factions; the Ministry had lost much of its credibility after having tried to deny the growing power or even the possibility of Voldemort's return. Battle lines were drawn as his old followers found their way back to him, and Dumbledore sympathesizers rallied behind Potter. For the most part, it was a behind-the-scenes war; both sides worked on gaining intelligence to find the opponent's weakest point. While Harry took it upon in himself to scour the world for the remaining horcruxes, Lucis Malfoy was in charge of finding the home base of the Order---this is where Draco came in.

Draco bolted up from the ground where he had fallen, his chest heaving. His eyes stung because they weren't used to the light, despite the fact that the soft glow of dawn could barely convince the rest of the world to wake up. The cold air bit into him as his tattered robes flapped in the wind. He was grabbing a hold of his arm, squeezing it in hopes that the pain would go away, as he remembered how he arrived in the Forbidden Forest.

_He had just been taken to Lucius' office.. Looking around the room, Draco could see other Death Eaters seated on plush green armchairs, two of which had clawed feet straining underneath the weight of who was most likely Crabbe and Goyle Sr. All the chairs were pushed against the wall, leaving an empty space in the middle, where Draco stood. Slowly, from the shadows, his father walked up to him. _

_"Nice of you to join us."_

_"Well, since you've all been so hospitable, I couldn't help myself," Draco drawled back before he caught himself._

_Lucius sneered at his son, his hand swinging back, ready to strike, and Draco recoiled at the gesture. Lucius laughed a cold, high laugh, and slowly lowered his arm to his side, "You're pathetic. Maybe another week in the dungeon will remind you of your place," Lucius raised his wand and conjured a cold, metal chair with shackles on the arm rests. _

"_Sit" _

_Draco followed obediently, too scared to anger his father any more. _

_"You must be wondering why we decided to be kind enough to allow you back here, insolent fool that you are," to this, the Death Eaters nodded and murmured in agreement, clearly showing disdain for their once Golden Boy. Lucius addressed the room instead of Draco, holding back a laugh as though he couldn't even believe what he was saying, "It seems your little…incident might actually be used to our advantage," said Lucius._

_The boy's heart began to beat faster, thinking that things were finally turning around, that his father was finally willing to forgive him, "Father I'll---" _

_"crucio!" _

_Draco's muscles tensed and he began to spasm in the chair. Lucius waited until Draco could no longer keep his teeth from chattering till he lifted the spell, "nobody told you to open your mouth, boy" _

_Draco began to shiver, defeated. He had no smirk to give, no biting reply. He hated himself for making his father this angry and was willing to do anything to get back under his good graces. His time in the dungeon didn't matter; it was penance for his mistake. _

_Lucius turned around and paced the room, finally stopping at his desk to pick up a rosary with emerald gems linked together with intricate silver details, "its actually pitiful that despite everything that has happened to them, those stupid children who call themselves the Order still continue to hold on to Dumbledore's—" he searched for the word for a moment, eyeing the rosary, "Ah yes, his faith." _

_He turned around and addressed the room once more, "We who know better would call it ignorance. Naiveté. It's a wonder they have survived this long with it. Though, I believe, it is this same childish foolery that will prove advantageous to our cause,"_

_At this, he turned around, grabbed a fistful of Draco's blond hair and jerked his head up to face him. He leaned forward and whispered in Draco's ear the plans they had for him. When he was finished, he looked his son in the eye and saw an emotion that was hard to place. Draco had widened his steel gray eyes in what could have been awe or fear. Suddenly, Draco felt a sharp pain on his arm, and he screamed as Lucius made a deep cut down his forearm and through the Dark Mark. The pain was too much to bear as the Mark began to burn. "Don't fail me again, Draco" But before he could say anything, Lucius thrust the rosary into Draco's hand, and immediately, Draco felt his navel being pulled towards it as the whole room spun into darkness, and his whole body was sucked away by the portkey. _

Draco looked around and saw the rosary still beside him. With little strength, he hid it behind the bushes and took note of how he could find it again. Slowly, he crawled through the underbrush, finally coming out of the forest and into the field. The last thing he saw before he collapsed was a once-beautiful castle that now had broken window panes, charred walls, and an eerie silence that made you catch your breath: Hogwarts.

"I won't fail you, Father" whispered the pale boy as he fell.


	2. Chapter 2

This one was a little harder. I think I dragged out the flashback a little too much, but I couldn't help myself. Anyway, its going slow, but it'll be worth it! I promise! Please review!

Disclaimer: Only the plot's mine!

Hermione took out a small black mirror and slowly held it out in front of her as she clung onto the stone wall. Trying to catch any straggling enemies unaware, she was using the mirror to look around corners. Satisfied that the corridor was empty, she limped her way out of the Great Hall.

Hogwarts was now a very lonely place. There had been many battles there since the War began, as both sides fought for the stronghold. The Order won the most recent battle, but their upper hand was shaky at most. Many had died in the fight, and they were desperate for reinforcements. Since both sides were suffering from lack of men and supplies, it became a slow battle for survival.

Hermione and Tonks had rallied up their last remaining soldiers after scouring the castle, confident that they were secure, at least for the moment. Late last night, they had decided that even though the information they gathered during the attacks were vital to the Order's plans, it wasn't safe to send it by owl, even if they had written it in code. Even the most powerful Concealing Charms have been broken before, and they could not risk this being leaked. The floo network was also closely being guarded by both sides. After hours of debate, it became evident that someone had to deliver the information themselves back to Grimmauld Place. Though it would be fairly easy to leave Howarts grounds and apparate to the safe house near the Order's headquarters, it would leave those that were left behind at a disadvantage. It was hard enough to hold their ground with those they had left.

The young witch frowned; she did not like this situation at all.

_"We can't afford to lose anymore people!" Dean Thomas hissed. _

_"Don't you think we know that?" another witch argued. _

_Ten other voices joined in on the debate as hunger and exhaustion fueled their frustration._

_"We might as well just give up, with all the good this plan is gonna' do for us!"_

_"It IS stupid, innit?"_

_"Well what do you suppose we should do then, mate?"_

_"I think you should shut yo—"_

_SNAP! _

_Everyone jumped and looked up at Hermione, her wand in her hand and pointed at the ceiling where remnants of a exploding peppersnap charm were falling to the ground_

"_Enough! Arguing like this will not get us anywhere!" she snapped. _

"_Hermione's right," Tonks added, "we've been at this for hours, and we're running in circles,"_

"_But Tonks! Think of what you're proposing!" Dean argued. _

_Tonks looked down at the floor, and didn't respond._

_Hermione looked around the room and sighed, "Listen, we don't like it either. But we need to get this information back to the Order, and it's the only way."_

"_But who's going to be the one to do that?" Hannah asked._

"_Hell, I'd jump at the chance to go!" someone scoffed._

"_But—you'd have to be crazy to leave the group! There's safety in numbers!" someone added._

"_It doesn't matter! Staying or leaving doesn't matter, because we're all in danger.. Whoever leaves is alone, yes, and are at risk of being captured—the information they'll be carrying is worthy of a fight. And those that stay behind.." Tonks paused as she surveyed her team, wincing to see so many injured, "...the fighting doesn't stop,"_

_Silence._

_"I think we need our strongest people here. With less people, we need all the help we can get," Hermione offered. _

_Everyone started to look around, staring at their comrades. Tonks could sense their unease._

_"Don't worry. We'll finish this up in the morning, its getting late. You should all go to sleep while we have a chance. Hermione and I will take the first watch, and its 2 hour shifts after that. The usual order should be fine. Get some rest," and with that, Tonks and Hermione walked away to take their places on either side of the Great Hall._

_An hour into their shift, Hermione heard the swish of robes and turned around._

_"Hermione, you know this is our only chance,"_

_"I know, Tonks."_

_A pause._

"_I...I promised Harry and Ron, you know. That I wouldn't let you out of my sight,"_

_Hermione frowned, "I figured as much. Those two never know when to mind their own business,"_

_"They're just worried about you, that's all,"_

_"And I'm not worried about them?" Hermione snapped._

_Silence. Tonks sat down next to Hermione and fiddled with a tear on her sleeve. _

_"Oh Tonks, I'm sorry…" hermione said as she buried her head in her hands, "I'm just at my wits end. I'm not used to not having the answers. And not having Ron and Harry with me right now…it's...it's too much. I know why they wouldn't let me go with them to destroy the horcruxes, because they needed me to stay with the Order. But here I am again, with the same dilemma."_

_"War always does this, Hermione. It divides people…friends…families…"_

_A pause._

_"Hermione…"_

_"Yes?"_

_"You know you're my go-to girl, right?_

_She nodded._

_"And you know we're all lucky to have you here—god knows you've single handedly saved all of us too many times to count,"_

_Hermione turned to look at Tonks, who was staring up at the ceiling, "what are you saying?"_

_"I don't want to have to ask you to do this, but you know you can't stay—"_

_"WHAT?! What do you mean I can't stay?"_

_"If I'm going to break my promise to Harry, I'd rather do it making sure you'll be okay!"_

_"But you need me here! Look around, Tonks! Everyone else is barely hanging by a thread! They won't be able to take much more of this!"_

_Tonks looked her in the eye and said, "neither can you," _

_Hermione's jaw dropped, "How could you say that? I'm the strongest person here!"_

_"Hermione! Look at yourself! I know you're strong now, but you wont be for much longer,"_

_A pause._

_Tonks continued, "Don't you think I don't notice it when it happens?"_

_"I don't know what you're talking about" Hermione stammered. _

_Tonks frowned and stood up. _

_"This is no longer a discussion. I am your commanding officer, Hermione."_

"_But—"_

"_This is not the time for you to be stoic, for christ's sake! You have to follow my orders! I could never face Ron and Harry again knowing I let you fight in this condition! We need you, Hermione. You're no use to us dead,"_

_Hermione's eyes began to water, as she bit her lip to stop herself from saying something she would regret. She could taste blood,"I hate you for this, you know,"_

_"I know. But at least you'll still be around to hate me," Tonks managed a smile and put her arm around Hermione, "..come on. It's time for the next shift,"_

Hermione winced as she grabbed a hold of the wall. For a second, she had become really light-headed and her knees began to buckle. She took a deep breath and waited for the feeling to go away. it had been two days since she felt the last one.

She turned around and looked up at the castle as she walked out onto the field, "Damn you, Tonks." She suspected that Tonks knew. She could feel her staring at her during times she pretended to have dropped something to hide the fact she was close to collapsing. She had a feeling that Tonks' new habit of linking arms with her as they walked was more than just a friendly gesture—she was supporting Hermione.

But Hermione was angry nonetheless. She didn't want to be the one who had to stay home and hide while the war raged on. She wanted to fight. She didn't want her condition to hinder her from that.

Careful to crouch down as she walked, almost hugging the ground, she started to make her way to the Forbidden Forest where there was a clearing that allowed her to apparate outside. She looked up at the crumbled ruins of the Quidditch field, ominous spikes of wood jutting out from the ground, and shuddered at the memory of what happened there during the last battle.

Walking towards Hagrid's hut, she saw it: near the edge of the forest, there was a body laying face down. From where she was, she could see that his robes were dirty and torn, even more than hers. The robes had rips that went down the body's back, exposing the scars left behind by a leather whip. Hermione gasped, some of them were still fresh.

She knew that no one from the Order would do this. Despite the cruelties of war, they never resorted to torture. _Who could this be then?_ she thought. The wind blew a little harder, and the robes began to flap, revealing the pool of blood beneath. Hermione looked around to see if the coast was clear, and started to run towards the body, _Oh my god! I have to help him!_

It was a boy. He was lying face down on the ground, his hood shielding his face. Hermione skidded to a stop, nearly running right into him. She placed her hand on his shoulder, and it was icy cold to the touch.

"Are…are you okay?"

No response.

She prodded him with her wand, and whispered a spell under her breath. _Wake up!_

A groan.

Hermione sighed with relief. For some reason, her heart poured out to this boy. As she looked at him, she could see that he had been suffering. On his back, where there weren't scars, there were burns. On his leg, she could see a bright red mark where shackles must have chafed his skin. Everywhere else, he was as white as bone.

"H..Help..." came a hoarse plead.

"It's okay, I can help you," she tried to turn him over, but she could hear bones crack. Thinking it was best not to do anymore damage, she leaned over and put her head near his so she could hear him. She held his hand and squeezed gently.

"I still can't believe how the Death Eaters could do this to anyone" she thought outloud.

At the mention of Death Eaters, suddenly, the boy jerked up and his muscles tensed. He whipped around to look at her, his face still covered in shadow by his hood. The hand she was holding was now gripping her arm, and she gasped at the strength of it.

He started to shake, and she could hear his teeth chatter as he whispered, "No! Don't send me back! I can't go back to them!"

Hermione tried to reach for her wand but his other hand had grabbed her free arm. She tried to wrestle herself free, but his grip was like iron.

"Please.." he began to cry, "…he's going to kill me. The Dark Lord will kill me!"

Hermione's jaw dropped and for the first time in a long time, she couldn't think. She just stared back into the dark hood, and she could almost feel his pain. She looked down at his arms and gasped. She could clearly see that it was the Dark Mark, but it was mutilated. A deep gash ran down his whole arm, splicing the image in two; the skin around it burnt as black as the heart of the man who gave him the mark.

"You need to help me!" he pleaded

But before she could say anything, his whole body started to shake as his muscles relaxed, and his whole body slumped back onto the ground. His hood was thrown back, and Hermione nearly screamed when she saw his face.

It was Draco.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry its taking a while for the story to get going! I just hate it when everything is so rushed! I'll try to keep a good pace on the updating though, so any comments and reviews would be great! THANKS!

Disclaimer: it's all J.K.'s genius 3

It was pitch black outside before the pale boy could open his eyes. He tried to move but his body was slow to respond. The blankets that covered him were soft and warm, but he could not feel it—the anestheto potion that he was given was expertly brewed.

He groaned as he managed to turn his head towards the door. A thin slit of light crept into the room, allowing him to make out the shadows of apothecary bottles in different shapes and sizes all lined up on his bedside table like soldiers. he turned his head again, scanning the walls. There were no windows. At the far end of the room, he could barely make out another bed, its white linen sheets askew, when he heard voices outside the door. Two people were arguing in what was presumably a hallway, and their strained voices grew louder and louder as their argument wore on. Their voices were familiar, but Draco was too groggy to place them.

"You should have cleared it with us before bringing him here!"

"I know I should have, but—"

"But what?!"

"You weren't there, okay? I have a gut feeling about this!"

A laugh.

"See! I should have known you wouldn't understand!"

The man's voice became serious again, "What _is_ there to understand? You know what he did!"

"Of course I know! STOP TREATING ME LIKE I DON'T KNOW WHAT IM DOING!"

The man scoffed, "You've obviously lost your head!"

"What? Did you think that I'd suddenly be lost and incompetent when you guys left me?"

"Well then what the hell is he doing here?!"

But before Draco could hear the response, there was a crash down the hall. He heard footsteps running towards it, but he could only make out one set. Suddenly, he heard the doorknob turn, so he quickly shut his eyes and softened the features on his face, pretending to be asleep. He heard the sound of feet softly padding across the room towards him, stopping right in front of his bed. With his eyes closed, the person seemed so far away, yet they felt so close—he could feel them watching him, he could hear them breathing.

Five minutes went by, and he could still feel their eyes on him. He began to feel self-conscious, and had to clench his teeth to keep from opening his eyes, focusing on his own breathing. He wanted to get up and yell at them to go away—their presence was making his chest hurt. Right when he didn't think he could take it any longer, he heard the person sigh and walk away. he heard the creak of bedsprings in the far end of the room, and the rustling of the linen sheets.

There was silence again, but it was broken when he heard a girl say:

"Damnit Malfoy, you better be worth it,"

The pale boy smiled. The memory of what happened after he touched the portkey was hazy at best—something he blamed on the potions he was surely given—but it was enough for him to get his bearings. He couldn't really remember how he got here, or even who the girl was who was now sleeping on a bed next to his, but it didn't matter. He had gotten over the first hurdle. _So far so good, Father,_ he thought to himself before he succumbed to a dreamless sleep.

Hermione woke up first. She rubbed her eyes, forcing herself to be alert. A good night's rest was something that came in short supply these days, and she wasn't happy to let it go. She knew how long this day was going to be, and she dreaded it. Slowly, she raised herself up on her elbows, her golden brown curls cascading down her back, and looked at the boy sleeping across the room. He looked so peaceful.

He shifted and moved his arm so it rested on top of his blanket, showing a black scar that was carved down his forearm, cleaving the dark mark into two. Hermione frowned. It was rare that she wouldn't have the answers, and she was clearly bothered by this. She pulled out the wand that she had hid underneath her pillow and looked back at the boy. _it would be so easy,_ she thought to herself, thinking of all the hexes she knew that would cause him as much pain as he caused them. She bit her lower lip as her wand hand shook slightly, _Dumbledore would have given him a chance,_ She had to take a deep breath to regain her composure—she could not show herself with a weak front, especially at a time like this.

Strained legs swung over the bed as Hermione tried to get up. She nearly yelped as her toes curled up when her feet touched the cold tile floor. Pointing her wand at her feet, she muttered something under her breath, making the soles of her feet glow orange. They now felt warm and toasty.

"Much better!" she smiled to herself.

She went over to her bedside table and found stacks of books and rolled up parchment. She gathered all these in her arms until they overpowered her slender frame, and slowly made her way out the door.

She didn't need to see around the mountain of books now leaning against her face to know where she was going. the safe house was long and narrow, and there were two staircases that led you up and down the three floors, with one on either side of the hallway. Along the corridors people had posted detailed maps of the whole country, and just like all other illustrations in the wizarding world, they moved. If Hermione had stopped to examine the maps, just as she had done countless other times, she would see little troops marching across the maps, dressed in either red or green. She would also remember Ginny light-heartedly comparing them to ants all decked out for Christmas. But now was not the time for light-hearted conversation.

Finally, huffing and puffing, she made her way up to the third level. Unlike the other two floors, this one was made up of only one room. She flicked her wand with the few fingers she still had free to move and opened the door, revealing a long table with ornate black legs, flanked by almost a dozen chairs of different shapes. She chose to sit on the simplest one with the peeling green paint, its shape reminding her of the ones she loved in the Hogwarts library. Much like the days she spent there, she sprawled out all her notes, almost building a fort around her with all her books. She surveyed the scene she laid out before her, and gave herself a confident nod. As always, she was prepared.

A few hours later, the door opened again, and exhausted witches and wizards began to file out of the room—curiously absent was a wizard with flaming red hair. The only two people left were Lupin and Hermione.

"So…" Lupin began.

"Yeah," Hermione gave him a nervous smile.

"Don't worry, Hermione. I know that was tough."

"I'm strong,"

"Nobody said you weren't,"

A pause.

Lupin held out his hand and put it over hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"I have absolute faith in you,"

"Thanks. I'm glad _somebody_ does. I mean, Ron didn't even want to come to the meeting" She laughed weakly, trying to act like it didn't bother her.

"Hermione, it's just been a lot for them to take in. Even for Ron, and he's seen more than most of them..." A pause, "..and he's probably anxious about telling Harry,"

Hermione buried her head in her hands.

Lupin continued, "It's just going to take them some time to forgive someone like Mr. Malfoy. Especially after what happened. We were all surprised when we got your message,"

"To tell you the truth, I was surprised myself,"

Lupin squeezed her hand again and said, "well, they've given you their approval, but it was hard-won. Keep in mind that his presence here is based solely on your recommendation. We can keep him here at the safe house until they think he is no longer a threat before we can take him back to headquarters,"

"I know."

Lupin pushed back his chair and gathered his things. He flicked his wand and all the empty chairs rearranged themselves back neatly before walking towards the door.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, sir?"

"be careful,"

"I know,"

Lupin was closing the door when Hermione yelled out, "Professor?"

"Hmn?"

"Tonks misses you too,"

She saw him smile, and could even see color return to his cheeks. His eyes sparkled before he nodded to her and closed the door.

Hermione sighed, relieved. _So far, so good. _


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR!

Sorry, this one's really choppy, I just wanted to get all this writing out of my system before I get tied up with some school stuff. It's a little lengthy with the dialogue, but I hope you can follow it ok.

Reviews would be greaaaat!

Disclaimer: all J.K.'s genius 3

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Draco could hardly remember the last time someone pushed back the hair from his face, grazing his forehead with light fingertips, to comfort him. Even half-asleep, he could feel that his skin was slick with sweat.

_"Shush, baby," she cooed._

_"Mother, it hurts…"_

_"I know, honey. I know. But you're strong, right?"_

_The little boy nodded, his blond hair reflecting the moonlight, but he had started to cry._

_Pushing back his hair, she held his face in her hand, "Don't cry…" She had to fight back her own tears to put up a strong front for her son, "…remember what you father said. Malfoys never cry,"_

_At the mention of his father, the little boy bit his lip to stop it from trembling, "You..you won't tell him I did, will you?"_

_"It's our little secret,"_

_"you'll tell him I was strong, won't you?"_

_She smiled, "the strongest," _

_"Promise?"_

_"I promise," she whispered. _

_The little boy choked back one more sob and fell asleep. His back still stung from where his father lashed it with a whip._

Draco opened his eyes, half expecting to see his mother leaning over him like she had done years ago. Instead, even with his blurry vision, the face on the bushy haired witch sitting on his bed, her hand resting on his head, was unmistakeable.

"AHHH!" he screamed and recoiled at her touch.

"AHH!" she screamed back as she pulled back her hand.

They glared at each at length, neither one wanting to speak first. He stared at her with contempt, while she stared back at him with shock. Finally,

"You?!" He hissed. _Oh God, not her!_

"Me," it was almost a question.

He looked around frantically, his eyes darting between her and the bed in the corner of the room. _GRANGER?! It was Granger?! _

He couldn't hide the shock and disgust in his voice, "What the bloody hell are _you_ doing here?! Don't touch me!"

He could feel her stiffen next to him, and he almost smiled at that small success. Irritating Granger was something he loved to do. But before he could celebrate, she had slapped him hard across the face.

"What the hell am I doing here?! You ungrateful son of a—"

She didn't finish her sentence because he was now grabbing a hold of her arms to prevent her from pummeling him to death. Her face was as red as the mark she left on Draco's.

Looking at her, all he wanted to do was push her off the bed. She was a mudblood after all, so she certainly deserved it. But he had to remind himself of his mission, and he knew angering her was not his best bet.

"Listen, Granger… I don't know have the faintest clue why it's you sitting here right now. You and I both know I'm groggy as hell, so would you calm the hell down?"

She pulled her arms back and massaged her wrists. He couldn't read her face.

"Don't ever touch me again," she said flatly.

"Touch you? You touched me first!" he retorted. _Lord knows I'm the one who should be worried! Filthy muggle! _

"I was only trying to help you, you git!"

She gathered up her things in a hurry, all the while muttering to herself about how much of an idiot he was. He just stared at her as she picked up a bottle from the table that was filled with a shimmery pink liquid. She threw it at him and he barely had time to catch it before it nearly collided with his face, "You're due for that one,"

And she walked away, her robe billowing behind her. .

"But—" he started to say.

"Piss off," she said it without a backwards glance. So with a slam, the door was shut and she was gone.

Hermione stormed into the room across the hall, scaring a witch she only knew by sight who was organizing some files near the door.

"GET OUT!"

The girl nervously dropped what she was holding and ran out, muttering her apologies along the way. Hermione looked down the hall to make sure she was gone and shut the door. She took out her wand, pointed it at the door and said, "Silencio!" , casting a silencing spell on the room. Then she turned around, clenched her hands into tiny fists and screamed at the top of her lungs.

She ran her hands through her hair and sighed. _What the hell am I even doing!_

"So what, are you a banshee now?" someone quipped from behind a bookcase.

Hermione jumped when she heard the voice.

A young girl came out from behind the bookcase, her flaming red hair tied up in a ponytail. Ginny had grown up a lot in the past few months, and had become Hermione's only confidante now that Harry and Ron were always gone.

Hermione's face turned even redder than it already was, and she stammered, "Ginny! I..I..I thought…was alone…nobody…"

Ginny walked over to her friend and put her arm around her. They both sat down on a pile of squishy purple pillows left there for late-night research. She pulled out a canteen from the folds of her robes and offered it to Hermione.

"here, you're going to need some of this,"

"What is it?"

Ginny grinned, "Well, it's not pumpkin juice,"

Hermione couldn't help but smile at her mischievous friend before she took a big swig out of the canteen. She could feel the firewhiskey burn down her throat, and she grimaced at the pain. It was a welcomed one.

"So I heard about Malfoy," she said casually.

"You and the rest of the world, apparently,"

"So is he what that was all about?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "something like that, yes,"

Ginny just smiled at her, before continuing, "Ron called me to come right away. he said it was an emergency—that you'd lost your head,"

Hermione snorted, "Bastard,"

"Well, from the looks of you, I'm thinking he might be right,"

Both girls managed to laugh.

"Oh Ginny, I don't know what I'm doing anymore,"

Ginny's hand flew to her head in mock despair, "Say it isn't so! Not Hermione!"

"Ha ha, very funny. I'm serious here, Gin'!"

"I know, I know, just trying to lighten up the mood."

"I can't believe I told everyone at the meeting this was a good idea,"

"Isn't it?" Ginny's question was gently, sincere.

"I thought it was, until he opened his stupid mouth. Then I remembered what a dimwit he was (and still is, mind you)"

"But Hermione, you still brought him back, didn't you? I mean, everyone's in an uproar around here about all this, but nobody can give me an answer when I asked them why you did. I reckon that's what's got everyone all riled up. Some people said it had something to do with the information you guys got from the school, since it's been classified---secrets do eat people alive don't they? Anyway, others think you've simply gone mad, right up there with Mad Eye. Which is it?"

"I hardly know myself, " she answered, before taking another swig of the canteen.

Ginny furrowed her brow at the vague answer.

"Well, has he said anything so far? About what happened?"

"No, he was acting really strange when he woke up, like he had no idea what was going on,"

"What?"

"Yeah, he kept looking around and asking me what the hell _I_ was doing there. He kept looking at me like I was dirty,"

"But—but they told me you said he asked you for help!"

"He did! That's the problem! I don't think he even remembers asking for it. Instead, he just kept freaking out about me being in there,"

"What an ungrateful son of a—"

"I KNOW! That's what I said!"

"So what does this mean? Are you giving it up then??

Hermione sighed.

"No, I can't just do that,"

"Nobody would mind, you know. He's Malfoy for christ's sake. The world could do with a little less of him,"

"I know. God knows he infuriates me more than anyone else around here! If he makes any more jibes at me for being Muggle-born, I could just—UGH!" At this, Hermione made a gesture like she was choking someone. She threw up her hands and looked back at Ginny.

"I don't like it anymore than everybody else does, I really don't. I hate him just as much as the next sane person would…but I felt like I have to help him,"

"Why? You don't have to!"

"because he deserves a chance!"

"But why him? Of all people?"  
"Because I have faith in him!" she didn't realize that she was yelling.

Ginny stared at her, confused. Hermione blushed when she realized how she must have sounded, stammering "…in the information. Not in him. The information he has in him. The information he has…" she cringed at her own pathetic excuses, "…because, you know, whatever information he has is valuable to the Order, so…yeah"

Ginny pushed back the hair from Hermione's face, looking at her with an amused expression. Hermione pouted.

"You won't tell anyone I said that, will you?"

"It'll be our little secret."

"Promise?"

"I promise,"

And they both laughed at the thought of it.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

The last chapter was a little shaky, but it'll get better, I promise! I made it a long one to make up for the delay.

Disclaimer: all J.K.'s genius 3

_"Don't fail me again, Draco" his father whispered into his ear. That's when he felt his arm being sliced open, his skin burning as the ice cold blade ran down from the crook of his elbow down to his wrist. _

Draco closed his eyes, trying to get the sound of his father's voice out of his head. He had been staring at his scar since Hermione had left the room. Now he was just like Potter. He had looked himself over and noticed that he had been healed everywhere else, but his scar remained the same: a black and green ravine.

_"Don't fail me again..."_

He shoved his head under a pillow to try to drown out the noise. Now he wished he was back in the dungeon of the manor, alone in the dark, so he didn't have to face the coming months. He couldn't risk disappointing the Dark Lord again. He knew well enough that if he failed, he would die at the hand of his own father.

He tossed and turned until he was exhausted. Cursing under his breath, he sat up and looked around. His eyes shot to Hermione's empty bed and he cringed at the thought of being in the same room with her. He hated her as much as he hated Potter and Weasley, and that was saying something.

Seeing her that morning made him feel even worse than he already did. The plan was complicated enough as it was to have to fool the Order into taking him in as a deserter, but having to deal with her was a different story altogether. For the life of him, he couldn't remember what had happened after he walked out of the forest, save for a few fleeting images he could hardly make out. "If I knew it was Granger who'd come find me, I would never have left the forest," he thought to himself.

He frowned as he thought out his plans. As much as he hated it, he had to be nice—no, civil—to her for everything to work. She was obviously the one assigned to watch him, and if he angered her, he risked the entire operation.

He knew he could be a convincing liar; he had mastered it many times over at school when he moved from girl after girl after girl. He smiled a little as he remembered those escapades, thinking, "Tricking those girls—"

Just then, he heard the door creak open as Hermione walked in.

His smile fell.

"—is nothing like tricking _this_ girl…" a voice in his head finished.

He watched silently as she walked over to her side of the room where she flicked her wand and all the sheets folded themselves back up neatly while her books stacked themselves up in tidy rows. She had changed after she had left and was wearing an old black robe similar to the ones they had worn at school. She tried to act nonchalant as she put things away, but he could see that her jaw was clenched and her breathing was quickened. He couldn't help but smirk at his effect on her.

Finally, when she seemed satisfied with her clean up, she walked over to his bed, avoiding his gaze. She still wouldn't look at him when she leaned over him and tapped her wand on his forehead. "Tempero!" When she said this, red smoke came out of the tip of her wand and formed numbers that floated above the bed, telling her his temperature had gone back to normal.

"So am I still as hot as you remember?" he drawled. If he couldn't insult her, the least he could do was make her uncomfortable.

A pause.

"Your fever's gone," she replied matter-of-factly.

He smiled at her stubborn reply, but she didn't see it. She had turned around quickly and busied herself digging through a box that he hadn't noticed was beside his bed. When she finally stood up, she was holding a bundle of gray cloth. It smelled like mothballs. She threw it on his bed where it landed sending dust bunnies flying into the air.

'What the—" he began, disgusted.

"They should be your size. Unless of course…" she picked up the tattered remains of his favorite black cloak, crusty with stains and with barely enough cloth leftover to cover a small child, "…you prefer your old ones? You always did have such a good taste in fashion."

He scowled at her sarcasm, and even more when she smirked right back at him.

"So hurry up and get dressed, they're waiting," she nagged.

He tried to sound annoyed, "Who's waiting?"

"The Order. Well, some of them anyway. You did say you wanted to talk to them didn't you?" it was a challenge more than a question.

His heart froze.

He knew he had to face this, but he was still nervous. He had been too busy obsessing about dealing with the insufferable know-it-all to give it much thought. He had been taught Legilimens and Occulemency by both his father and Snape, so he knew he could probably thwart their wandering minds from getting inside his own—but he didn't know for how long.

She seemed to have read his mind.

"It's a pity that we're kind of low on skilled mind-readers at the moment—"

"How ironic," he muttered. She didn't seem to hear him.

"—but don't worry…we have much better ways of getting information," and with a triumphant smile, she left the room.

He was practically foaming at the mouth. She was trying to beat him at his own game. She was laying it on thick, hardly giving him any chance to retaliate.

He held his breath as he tried to put on the robes, trying not to inhale any of the dust that it seemed to be made of. It hurt him to move too fast, so he had to take his time to get out of bed. He leaned on his bedside table for support, nearly jumping back up when his feet made contact with the cold tile floor.

He regained his balance and picked up an empty bottle from the table. He turned around and quickly hurled it at the stack of books Hermione had made, causing them to crash down on the floor.

"That mudblood is going to be the death of me!" he yelled.

Little did he know how true that would was.

Hermione was pleased with herself. She was leaning against the wall outside their room where she had just left Draco to change. She heard a crash and a very audible Malfoy screaming, "—going to be the death of me!"

She covered her mouth to suppress a giggle. After talking with Ginny, she realized that she couldn't let him get to her, and even if he did, she couldn't let him know it. "Kill him with kindness!" Ginny had said.

She nearly jumped when the door was violently pulled open and out stood Draco. He was standing up to his full height—she never realized how much he towered over her. He looked down and saw her staring at him. He stared back.

Neither of them wanted to break away first.

"Hurry up, Hermione! Everyone's waiting!" she heard Ginny call from the top of the stairs on the other end of the hall. His eyes narrowed before he looked away.

She let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

She quickly shook the fogginess out of her head and snapped back to the task at hand. She took her wand out of her robes and pointed it at him.

"Move, Malfoy!"

He looked at the wand pointed at him and back up at her. He sneered. Slowly, he turned around and started to walk towards the staircase at a snail's pace. She rolled her eyes behind him. She told him when and where to turn, leading him back up to the third level where she had just been earlier that day. When the doors opened, she noted that the large table had been removed, and only a single chair remained. In front of it was a small three-legged table.

She didn't notice Draco stop at the threshold of the doorway and she collided with him.

His robes let out another whirlwind of dust. She quickly regained her composure. She looked up to see his face but found that he was staring straight ahead at the chair. When she hit him, she had felt that he had tensed up, rigid as a board.

"Ah, welcome. Come on in, Mr. Malfoy," came a calm voice. It belonged to Lupin. He was sitting behind a desk with Professor Mcgonagall and an auror named Denmark Stone. Many more stood around the room against the walls. Hermione looked around to find Ginny who gave her a reassuring smile.

"So are you going to stand out there all day?" Stone asked, obviously getting impatient.

Malfoy didn't move.

"For pete's sake, Malfoy, go!" she hissed behind him. She didn't want him to make a fool of himself, and ultimately of her by not even going through the tests. Reluctantly, he walked forward and sat down on the chair he knew was his. Hermione came behind him and transfigured some knickknacks she dug out of her pocket into a comfortable chair.

There was silence.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, "Mr. Malfoy, I am sure this council does not need to remind you of why you are here. Keep in mind that it was you who wanted an audience with us, so do not try our patience. Is that understood?"

"Yes," he replied. Only Hermione was close enough to hear the uneasiness in his voice.

"Ms. Granger has so kindly defended your case up until this point, and it is now your turn to speak. From her testimony, there is enough evidence to at least keep you under close surveillance, but not enough to keep you from suspicion. Do you willingly agree to undergo a series of tests to assure us of your intentions?"

Draco nodded.

Stone coughed, signaling that he wanted to speak, "Mr. Malfoy, it is unfortunate that we have to go about this in this way. As per protocol, you should have been questioned by someone skilled in Legilimens before even being allowed entry into this safe house, but…" his eyes flicked to Hermione "…complications arose,"

Lupin quickly jumped in, "What Mr. Stone is trying to say here Draco is that we have been forced to use a different means of interrogation for your case. All our people assigned to do these are elsewhere—it isn't your business where they are. Alas, supplies for Veritaserum have become almost non-existent because of its demand during the war. it has come to our attention that in fact, our last batch had been dropped in the hallway only yesterday…"

Hermione frowned as she remembered the crash that had interrupted her argument with Ron. "Interesting how Ron forgot to tell me what happened," she thought. She looked around the room as the crowd broke out in whispers. Accusatory looks were being shot at Draco, and she could tell they thought he had caused it, so she spoke up.

"Sir, both Ron Weasley—if he had bothered to show up—and I can testify that Draco Malfoy had nothing to do with that incident. He was lying unconscious in a locked room, with Ron and I guarding the door,"

Lupin nodded, "that is not necessary Ms. Granger, we were not implying anything of the sort. We know full well who was responsible,"

Everyone in the room followed his gaze to the corner of the room where Neville had began to hide behind as many people as possible. When the murmurs finally subsided, Lupin continued.

"Nevertheless, we have devised a third option. There will be two phases of the questioning. The first is a formal inquiry done by the three of us here before you, in front of an audience. They have just as much a right to hear your story as we do. The second one, unfortunately, will be much more intimate, and will be done with just the council and Ms. Granger present,"

Hermione looked just as shocked as Draco did. Though he was bracing himself for the unexpected, she had thought she had the situation under control. Now she wasn't so sure.

"Shall we begin?" Professor McGonagall asked, looking at Stone.

"Mr. Malfoy, you will begin with your statement, followed my Ms. Granger. We will be asking questions throughout the process. Begin,"

Hermione looked at Malfoy who was now concentrating on a spot on the floor. He looked like he had fallen asleep. Everyone was on tenterhooks waiting for him to respond. Hermione heard the chairs of the three councilmembers creak as they leaned forward, trying to catch anything he might have been saying. She could also hear the crowd begin to fidget under their robes, growing impatient. She felt like smacking him in the head to wake him up.

Suddenly, Malfoy raised his blond head and spoke in a clear, confident voice, "I'm here today because I'm asking for your help…"

His voice surprised her. She had never heard him use that tone before—it was almost human. It wasn't his usual arrogant drawl, but it didn't sound like a whimpering, defeated boy either. He sounded more mature.

"…my involvement in the activities on behalf of the Dark Lord has been an experience I would much rather forget than relive, but if that is what's necessary to get you to listen, than I understand," he cleared his throat and continued.

"My father is a Death Eater. His friends are Death Eaters…" he lifted his sleeve and showed the room his scar, "…and at one time, even his own son was a Death Eater," he let this thought settle before he went on.

"…it isn't a choice in my family. It is an expectation. One that I must admit, I was glad to accept. He was my father after all, and he knew what was best for me,"

A smothered cough interrupted him. It sounded suspiciously like a certain Weasley. Malfoy ignored it.

"…months into it, I began to feel uncomfortable. Laughing about using dark magic with my friends was very different from the actual thing. When my first real assignment came, I realized I wasn't prepared to do it,"

"What was that assignment exactly?" Stone asked.

"Help get the Death Eaters into Hogwarts and…" he faltered.

A pause.

"Well? Speak up, boy!"

"…and to kill Professor Dumbledore," he managed to say.

Yells broke out in the crowd as fresh wounds were torn open. Some people had to be held back so they couldn't pummel him right there. Even bumbling Neville tried to get in a hex or two but was trampled by everyone else who wanted to beat him to it. Even Hermione had to admit that it stung to hear it again.

"That is enough!" Professor McGonagall warned, "…Mr. Malfoy you may continue."

He fidgeted in his chair for a moment, struggling to find the words he needed.

"…I couldn't disobey my father, let alone the Dark Lord. So I tried. I tried to kill him, but I kept failing. Every time I did, it was a disappointment to my father. His warnings soon became threats, and even my mother knew my life was at risk. I wanted to get it over with so bad. But when I had my wand pointed at him, my mind went blank. I couldn't do it,"

"Why is that, Mr. Malfoy?" Lupin asked.

"Because of what Dumbledore said. He was talking to me like he knew I wasn't one of them. That I wasn't a killer. He told me he could help me. I tried to tell him that I had no choice, that Voldemort would have killed my family. But he assured me he could help me. Everyone else was there, telling me to do it. I had started to lower my wand, when Snape came out of nowhere and finished it for me…" He noticed everyone shift in their seats. It was a touching subject.

"…I didn't want to go back with them. I didn't want to be part of it anymore. I knew that I was wrong for the part I took in it. I didn't cast the killing curse, but I might as well have. I know his blood is on my hands…"

Everyone was holding their breath.

"Snape was welcomed as a hero, but punished nonetheless for taking my glory away from me as if it was a rite of passage he robbed me of…" he smiled at the absurdity of the Death Eater mentality, "…I don't know how long they had me there. They locked me up and tortured me for my mistake. My father himself tried to kill me to save the family from embarrassment,"

"What stopped him?" Stone asked.

"My mother. She helped me. She told him to turn the other way just that once, at least for her. I didn't know she had asked Snape to help. I both love and resent her for it..." Hermione saw him swallow hard, "…she snuck me out of the manor and told me to run. I didn't know where else to go. I remembered what Dumbledore had told me, so I thought I could find help at Hogwarts,"

He looked at Hermione who jumped at his gaze, "…and I guess the rest of the story you already know," he said flatly. And with that, he shifted in his seat and looked back at the council, defiant.

"Very well, Mr. Malfoy. Your statement clears with the rest of our evidence from that night. Harry Potter was present during the conversation you had with Dumbledore, and though he isn't here today, he has already confirmed the story," Professor McGonagall said.

Hermione noticed a subtle furrow in Malfoy's brow that she doubt anyone else picked up. He was trying hard to keep a stoic face, but his surprise at the news of Harry Potter having witnessed such a personal conversation was something hard for him to hide. Hermione was snapped back to reality when she realized Lupin had been calling her name.

"Hermione!"

"Oh! Yes, I'm sorry."

"Are you ready with your statement?"

She nodded.

"Very well then. Begin."

"As I have already told the rest of the Order this morning, the operation at Hogwarts is suffering. Although we were able to secure the castle, it came at a price. Our numbers are scarce and our supplies are almost non-existent,"

"And we are very grateful for all the work you guys have done out there, Hermione. We're sorry its taken so long for extra help to get out to you," Lupin said with a reassuring nod.

Hermione continued, "…we were however able to question a few of the stragglers that were subdued. Usually, they put up a fight that forced our hand and their death, but we came across a few who were more willing to help. The reason I am even here today is because we needed to get all the information we had gathered back to the Order, and we could not risk it being intercepted,"

"Hermione, could you please recount what you heard for those who were not present at this morning's meeting," Stone said.

"Voldemort is planning an attack on Hogsmeade very soon. He hopes it'll give him an advantage to gain access to the castle. There was rumor within the ranks that he would have giants with him, but we were hoping Hagrid's made more progress with them since the last report?"

"we can't really discuss that in depth at this moment, for we don't know ourselves, " McGonagall paused as she saw the look of fear in some of the younger members, "…but preventative measures are definitely underway. Hermione, please go on with your statement."

"Yes, Professor…We were also informed that there was a traitor within Voldemort's circle, and that the orders were for him to be killed. And so, when I saw Malfoy—when he asked me for help, i thought it all made sense," she turned her head so he couldn't see her face.

The three council members nodded. They had been present at the morning meeting, and this wasn't news to them. She knew her answer satisfied the rest of the people in the room. She wished she hadn't had to say that in front of Malfoy, at least not so bluntly.

"Is that the only reason why you disobeyed the protocols and decided to bring him here? Whether his story was plausible or not, there was no reason for you to make the decision yourself based on childish impulse." Stone argued.

She heard everyone catch their breath. They had been waiting for her answer ever since they found out what she did. She looked at Ginny for a second before turning to face the council.

"I beg your pardon, sir, but the last time I checked, when people are in the battlefield, protocols go right out the window—but I guess I could not expect you to know that, seeing as you haven't been to one in such a long time"

She heard several people stifle a laugh. She gained more confidence.

"Whether or not I suspected that Draco Malfoy was truly on the run from Voldemort, he still asked for my help. I was under the belief that this Order had every intention to carry on what Dumbledore started—and I truly believe that if he were still alive today…" she paused to address the rest of the room, her eyes resting on Malfoy who met her challenge and did not avert his eyes, "…he would not have hesitated to give Malfoy a second chance,"

He thrust up his chin, the only sign of approval she knew he could and would give.

She looked back to face the council and continued, "…It was his faith in people that kept our fight alive for so long, and I fully intend to hold to that same faith...unless of course, you thought otherwise, Mr. Stone?"

He looked at her, his mouth wide open. She smiled inside knowing she had cornered him. He could not retort.

Lupin finally stood up and motioned to everyone along the walls, "This part of the inquiry is now over. You've all heard both statements, and hopefully this satiates your curiosity. I must now ask you to leave,"

They grumbled as they left the room.

It was now just Malfoy and Hermione sitting before the council. Now that the crowd was gone, Hermione began to feel anxious again. She did not know what the council had in store for Malfoy—and she hated it when she didn't have the answers. She bit her lip and cursed herself when she saw that Malfoy still did not have any kind of expression on his face. She always thought he was a coward when he wasn't flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, but he continued to hold his own.

"Mr. Malfoy, we will now proceed to the second phase of the inquiry. Denmark, if you please?"

"it would be my pleasure,"

Stone stood up and walked to a cabinet that Hermione hadn't noticed was brought in just for the occasion. He thrust the old doors open, and the stale air that was trapped inside it hung low with dust. When he turned to face them, he was holding a large stone bowl, roughly hewn. He placed it on the stool in front of Draco. She looked at it and saw that it was holding something between liquid and gas, like a thick heavy smoke that you could mold with your hands.

"A pensieve?" she whispered.

"Yes, Ms. Granger," McGonagall began, "…since he cannot tell us what happened, it is best that we see it ourselves,"

"But who will be the one to see the memories? Surely we can't all jump in at once?"

"Denmark here has been kind enough to help us with that—it's been his little project to devise something like this for a while now,"

Stone smiled, pleased with himself, "…thank you Minerva. Yes, Ms. Granger, to answer your question, we've bewitched the pensieve to show the memory to the whole room, so we can all examine it at once and proceed at a timely fashion,"

"Oh.."

Stone turned his attention to Draco who was now looking into the pensieve with disdain, "Are you ready, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco merely looked up at him and did not respond.

"We will start with roughly the same questions as we asked before, to get your mind used to this exercise. You can trust that this won't be the last time you'll have to go through this,"

Hermione saw Draco narrow his eyes.

"Ms. Granger, if you could please lend Draco your wand, so he can extract the memories?" Lupin asked. She hesitated, but finally placed her hand in his pale hands. She noticed that he held it gingerly in his hands.

"What was the mission given to you during your last year at Hogwarts?"

"I was told—"

"In the pensieve, if you please, Mr. Malfoy," Stone said with a smirk. Hermione could tell Stone liked to see people squirm, and she was disgusted by it.

Malfoy slowly placed the tip of Hermione's wand on his temple and pulled out a single, glittering whisp of smoke—it was his memory. He dropped it into the penseive, and the room began to glow and fill up with smoke.

She saw him look at her and she paled; she hoped he could not see her reaction through the smoke. She didn't mean for it to be such an invasion of his privacy. Guilt tugged at the back of her throat—it was hard to swallow.

Suddenly, a voice came out of the smoke, and it startled everyone. It a cold, familiar drawl.

"_So, Draco, do you understand what the Dark Lord has asked of you?" Lucius Malfoy said as he stepped out of the shadows._

_Draco was kneeling before his father, his blond hair visible from underneath his hood._

"_Yes, Father, and I am grateful that he trusts me with such a task," came the reply. _

"_Get up," _

_Slowly, Draco stood up to face his father. Lucius thrust a black box into his hands, and Draco immediately bowed his head in thanks._

"_Make sure this gets to Dumbledore—do you remember what is inside?"_

"_The necklace?"_

_Lucius smiled coldy in response. _

"_Thank you, Father," Draco said._

"_You have one simple task. Kill the old fool. If you know of any reason why you would be incapable of such a menial task, then tell me now,"_

"_Father, it will be done just as the Dark Lord has asked,"_

_Lucius ran his cold hands down Draco's cheek, smirking. Slowly, he lowered his hand to Draco's neck and dug his fingers into his pale skin. It was a threat—Draco did not flinch. _

"_Don't fail me, Draco,"_

"_Yes, Father," he croaked. _

The figures that were standing before them began to fade away with the smoke. Hermione had never experienced anything like that before. It was as if they were all in the same room as Draco and his father, but they could not see them. She had to keep looking back and forth between the Draco sitting beside her with his head bowed down, and the Draco standing before her with his father forcing him to look up with his hand squeezed around his neck. It was surreal.

At first no one spoke. it was like that giant elephant in the room that nobody wanted to talk about. Finally, Stone leaned forward to speak.

"What was your relationship with your father, _Draco_?" he made sure to make Draco's name fall off his tongue thick as honey.

Draco's eyes flashed, even in the haze of smoke, "I don't see how that is relevant," he replied back coldly.

"Need I remind you, Mr. Malfoy that you agreed to answer _all_ the questions?"

A pause.

He had thrust his chin up once more, but this time, in defiance.

He did not even blink when he pulled out another memory, and then another, and another. He did not look at anything but at Stone himself, while the room got hazy again. He had threw in so many different memories that they all came up at once. Hermione could hardly tell one from the other.

"_Crucio!"_

"_Father, please!"_

"_You will learn to hold your tongue, boy!"_

"_Lucius, for Merlin's sake, please stop! Leave him alone!" it was a woman's voice._

"_You pathetic little boy. Can't even beat a filthy Mudblood? You might as well be a squib for all the good you've done to this family!" _

"_You'll tell him I was strong, wont you, Mother?"_

"_I promise," _

"_Crucio!"_

"_Father! Please! Look at me!"_

"_No, Father, don't!" _

Hermione had covered her face with her hands. Even in the memories, Lucius's presence was enough to give her chills. The sounds of Draco crying as a child made her blood ran cold. "How could he do that to him?" she thought. She looked at him to see if he was okay, and found that his eyes were closed.

McGonagall finally waived the memories away with her wand, not wanting to see anymore.

"Mr. Ma—Draco…" she began.

"Don't," he warned, his eyes still closed.

"What your father—"

"I said, 'Don't'…" he opened his eyes, "…my father is not a monster," he said hoarsely.

Hermione's chest hurt at his reply. "How could he defend his father like this?" she thought.

"Your next question, Mr. Stone?" Draco asked like it was a casual conversation.

Stone hesitated at first, looking at McGonagall who avoided eye contact. He proceeded, "How did he react to your failure?"

Once again, a glittering memory was dropped into the pensieve.

The room grew dark and cold, and it was quiet for a long time. Suddenly, there was a bang.

_Draco flew across the room, hitting the wall with a thud._

_He heard his bones crack._

_A woman with long dark hair ran in after him, pushing back his blond hair._

_"Oh God, are you okay? Draco! Draco, wake up!" she shook him awake._

_He jumped back from her and cowered to the wall when a dark shadow swept across the room. It was Lucius._

_His voice was cold, "Get away from him Narcissa,"_

_The woman looked back at him, distraught, "Godamnit, Lucius! He's our son!"_

_"That's no son of mine," he bit back. His robes billowed as he walked towards Draco. Narcissa jumped up and clawed at him, screaming at the top of her lungs._

_"You and your friends have nearly killed him already! It's been weeks, Lucius! Weeks! How could you kill him like this? He's your son!"_

_"get away from me!"_

_He tried to push her aside but she would not budge._

_"Lucius, I will never forgive you for this. For once in your life, think of this family!" she stood her ground. _

_'I AM THIS FAMILY!" with a swoosh of his cloak, he turned quickly to sidestep her and get a clear shot of Draco, bleeding on the floor. _

_"She thinks she's saved you, boy, but mark my words. You will pay for your incompetence.." he hissed "…Crucio!" _

_Malfoy did not even scream. _

"STOP!" Hermione yelled.

Lupin quickly waived the memory away.

Everyone now stared at Malfoy who had his head in his hands. His chest heaved and a sob escaped his lips.

Stone coughed, uncomfortable with the sound of Draco crying.

Professor McGonagall walked over to him and placed her hand on his shoulder, "That will do for today, Draco,"

Hermione tried to help Draco up from his chair, but he pulled away at her touch. She could tell he wanted his space. When she opened the door, she heard several groans as a crowd of people were thrown back by the force of it. In their hands were extendable ears. She gave them a scowl much like that of McGonagall and they scrambled away.

Hermione stood at the door and waited for Malfoy to catch up.

"I know my own way back, Granger," he said coldly.

She did not move. He shrugged and walked past her. Although they were trying to hide, he still noticed everyone staring at him as he walked back to his room. Hermione did not know how he did it, but he continued to stare straight ahead, his hands clenched into tight fists.

He slipped inside his room and shut the door before Hermione could come in. She heard him slam his body against the door, and slide down to the floor. She leaned against the door where she heard his body slam, and bit her lip, trying not to breathe. She could hear him crying. She muttered a spell and silenced the door so nobody else could hear him, and walked away.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

Disclaimer: all J.K.'s genius.

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And so it was for the next few days. Draco would be escorted up to the third level of the safe house every morning where he would stay until late into the evening, returning to his room mentally exhausted with a tight-lipped Hermione walking behind him. Each time he made his way through the house, nobody would meet his eye.

_"See this, Draco? Do you know what it is?"_

_The little boy shook his head but shifted eagerly on the black velvet couch, trying to lean closer to his father. The man held up what Draco thought was a necklace up to the light of the candelabra, the pale yellow light making the green gems sparkle. _

_"it's called a rosary. Muggles use it to pray. Do you know what that means? To pray?"_

_This time Draco nodded, remembering his tutor had mentioned it once during lessons._

_"It's really interesting how they put so much trust on so small a thing," he said, gently putting it over Draco's head, "...it makes them fools," _

_Draco felt the cold gems against his neck, and quickly smiled at his father._

_"You're a Malfoy, son. You'll never need to pray. I'll make sure of it," he said as he held Draco in his arms. He kissed his forehead and pulled Draco's hand away from the rosary. _

_"You're better than they are. You're my boy," _

_The little boy smiled. He was his father's son. _

Draco blinked his gray eyes, coming out of his daydream. He continued to stare at the bare walls in front of him as he leaned back on the chair that had replaced Hermione's bed. His eyes began to glaze over as the minutes ticked by.

He still didn't move.

His throat was dry and he no longer trusted his voice—he hadn't used it for days. He didn't need to. The hours he spent over the pensieve were more than enough to tell his story. When he would return to his room after the sessions, sleep escaped him; even when he closed his eyes, he could still feel his father's gaze, hear his father's words.

They were slowly breaking him.

"_A pensieve?" Hermione whispered. _

"_Yes, Ms. Granger," McGonagall began, "…since he cannot tell us what happened, it is best that we see it ourselves,"_

"_But who will be the one to see the memories? Surely we can't all jump in at once?" _

"_Denmark here has been kind enough to help us with that—it's been his little project to devise something like this for a while now,"_

_Stone smiled, pleased with himself, "…thank you Minerva. Yes, Ms. Granger, to answer your question, we've bewitched the pensieve to show the memory to the whole room, so we can all examine it at once and proceed at a timely fashion," _

"_Oh.." _

_Stone turned his attention to Draco who was now looking into the pensieve with disdain, "Are you ready, Mr. Malfoy?"_

This was something Draco was not ready for. He knew they had to question him; they had to see if they could trust him as well as try to get whatever information he may have gleaned from his father, Voldemort's right-hand man. He knew the latter would be difficult because Voldemort was specific about his followers keeping tight-lipped about his plans, and that the Order would not believe him when he told them this. So he was prepared for torture—it's what his side would have done. He had smiled inwardly to himself at the irony of the time he spent in the dungeon of his family home; it had only prepared him for what he was about to face. The lashings…the beatings…it was all old news to him by now. He would have endured it, closed his eyes and ignored the pain. It was all worth it for his cause. All worth it for his father. He would have taken the torture gladly—even smile at the man who would do it. He had secretly hoped it would be Granger. He wanted her to see in his eyes that she couldn't break him.

But they could, and they were close to it.

So looking at the rough, stone bowl, he was caught off guard. Looking at the bushy haired witch beside him, he could tell she was caught off guard as well. He not only had to show someone his memories, but they had to be broadcasted to the whole room; it was like reliving them all over again. He only stared back at Stone in response, accepting his challenge; inside, he was boiling, but his face did not betray him. His only comfort was that he could at least choose which memories to show them.

At the time, he had thought he could deceive them. He told himself he didn't care what they saw anyway—he was a Malfoy, he had ice in his veins. _They should be honored_, he had told himself, _they'll see the power of the Dark Lord and know they've made a mistake. I'll have my revenge._

But as ghost after ghost emerged from the shadows, Draco realized that it was like seeing his life for the first time. Like he was reliving everything with all his emotions served to the Order on a golden platter.

_He looked at Granger and glared. He could see her blush, even in the dark. Suddenly, the whole room was filled with smoke that hung low to the ground. _

_When Draco heard his father's cold voice in the smoky haze, he had to close his eyes. It sounded too real; he didn't even want this memory of his father to see him as a prisoner. _

"_He's not here. He can't see me," he told himself._

_When he heard his mother's cries, his fists clenched so hard that his nails drew blood._

"_She's okay now. It was just a misunderstanding," he added. _

_When he heard his father perform the Cruciatus Curse, he had to stop himself from jerking his whole body to brace the impact. _

_It was all too real._

_Looking at the image if his own pale body swathed in soaked robes, broken and bleeding, he had to look away, "that's not me. That isn't my father," _

"_You're a monster!" he heard his mother scream._

_He shook his head, but he didn't know if it was a response for his mother, or for himself. _

The questions kept coming as the days wore on. He found that he had started to argue with himself, even at night. The fatigue caught up with him, despite the many energy potions they were making him drink. He could no longer tell when he was dreaming or when he was awake. The memories that played out in front of him became a jumbled mess in his head. Maybe he had imagined them? Maybe the bastards bewitched the pensieve to show the wrong memories? He didn't remember half of the memories he dropped into that rough, shallow bowl; he could not recognize the boy that looked back at him from the smoky darkness.

What bothered him most of all were the memories of his father. The line between what had happened and what he told himself had happened blurred, and he no longer knew the difference between the two. His father loved him. But his father hurt him. He yelled at himself for doubting his father. And he yelled even more when he could hear his father's voice. He was drowning himself with screams, and he needed to be alone.

And so he liked that nobody would look at him. Even though the house was packed full of people coming and going, they never acknowledged him. He wanted to think they were scared of him, that they were ashamed. But he knew it was hate that they tried to mask from him, because it came with guilt. _They think they are so high and might…that they are above me. Above the Dark Lord. But they're still just as cruel. They're just too scared to admit it, _he thought.

The only person he came in contact with was Granger, and even she was no longer much for conversation, not even for their usual yelling matches. At first, he welcomed it. he hated her grating voice anyway, and refused to waste whatever energy he had left on her. But soon, even the silence was deafening.

There was a knock at the door, but all he did was flick his eyes towards the noise for a second, his only acknowledgement to the interruption. He already knew who it would be, and that she would come in whether he said she could or not.

Hermione walked into the room with a tray of food levitating in front of her. She waved her wand and the tray softly landed on the small table in front of Draco. He still kept his eyes on the wall in front of him, but he could see her sneak looks at him when she thought he wasn't looking. He didn't bother to return her stares because he knew she would quickly turn away before he could. She always did.

He focused on the sound of her footsteps as she walked over to his bed to pick up yet another potion he had to drink. Every sound she made only made his blood boil. He could no longer take it. He wanted to dare her to look at him, to challenge him. he wanted her to know that he hated her for what they were making him do—what they were making him see.

When she had her back turned, he pulled the tray closer to the edge of the table, placing his knee under of the edge of the tray, where it rested precariously. He waited for her to lean over him like she always did to check his temperature when he quickly dropped his knee down, causing the food to slide right into his lap, where the soup splashed onto his robes and back up at Hermione. Her hair was drenched and hung limp around her face. He smiled at the look of horror on her face—she clearly thought she had knocked the tray over. She started to stammer an apology as she instinctively grabbed a towel to wipe the mess she thought she made.

Such a pathetic, submissive reaction wasn't typical of Hermione, and he found that he hated her more for it. he quickly grabbed her wrists and shook her hard, forcing her to look at him, "Why won't you look—"

"_No! Don't send me back! I can't go back to them!"_

_Hermione tried to reach for her wand but his other hand had grabbed her free arm. She tried to wrestle herself free, but his grip was like iron._

_"Please.." he began to cry, "…he's going to kill me. The Dark Lord will kill me!" _

_Hermione's jaw dropped and for the first time in a long time, she couldn't think. She just stared back into the dark hood, and she could almost feel his pain. She looked down at his arms and gasped. She could clearly see that it was the Dark Mark, but it was mutilated. A deep gash ran down his whole arm, splicing the image in two; the skin around it burnt as black as the heart of the man who gave him the mark. _

He was squeezing her wrists the exact same way he did that day in the forest, and everything flooded back to him. He quickly dropped her hands, shocked at the memory that suddenly jumped at him at full force. He couldn't believe he said any of that. He was never conscious of it—it wasn't part of his plan.

He saw her look at him with concern, and he pushed himself backwards off the chair. He started to walk away from her.

"Malfoy—what just happened?"

He needed to be alone. He couldn't face her.

But she followed him. of all the times she had to go back to her annoying, persistent self, she just had to choose this moment,

"Leave me alone, Granger!" he said, trying to sound annoyed.

"You wanted to talk, didn't you? Isn't that what you wanted?" she spat back.

He turned his back on her.

"Malfoy! Why aren't you answering me? LOOK AT ME!" at this, she reached out her hand and pushed him as hard as she could.

He had had enough.

He turned back around to face her, grabbed her by the shoulders, and pushed her against the wall. Before she could do anything, he quickly punched the wall with so much force that all she could see was a gray blur that barely missed her face. She shut her eyes at the sound of the impact, but didn't flinch.

He was practically steaming as he breathed down on her; he hated her for keeping her eyes closed. He looked down at her neck, exposed from where he had ripped her robes when he grabbed her. He wanted to strangle it. He wanted to slice it open. He wanted to rest his head against it and never come up for air. He wanted her to look at him and tell him what to do.

So he leaned forward, still breathing hard. He rested his forehead against hers, and found that she was burning up. He pushed his head down, and she pushed back. They stood frozen like that for what seemed like hours. They just leaned into each other and breathed.

Finally, he lifted his head, and without giving her a backwards glance, turned away.

-

Somehow, Hermione had made her way out of his room and was now in the room across

the hall that she had claimed as her own. Her heart was racing. She placed her hand on her forehead to make sure there was nothing there…she could still feel him there.

She looked down at her arms where he had bruised them; he was so angry. He had been since the first day of questioning, but he hadn't said a word to her or to anyone.

She couldn't blame him for what he did. She had acted the same way when Ron and Harry forced her to stay behind. She felt abandoned. And she knew that Draco felt the same way.

He needed to do that.

She checked on him several times that night, walking by his room periodically to make sure he was doing okay. She couldn't hear him thrashing in the bed like he usually did. Instead, all she could hear was even breathing. So on her last check, she smiled. For the first time in weeks, he had slept the whole night.


End file.
